


head-heart malfunction

by asweallfallfromgrace



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Canon Character of Color, Canon Gay Relationship, Coming Out, Concussions, First Meetings, Fluff, Kasselian Opera, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Swearing, Tags May Change, Texting, Trans Male Character, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-11 16:15:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13527933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asweallfallfromgrace/pseuds/asweallfallfromgrace
Summary: Paul is late for class, and some asshole is humming opera in the shower.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a Tumblr post by writertobridge. Had to add a little whump because why not. This will probably be multi-chapter. Title is from “Press Restart” by Walk the Moon - which is honestly the most canon Culmets song I could think of.

Paul Stamets was having one of his patented Bad Days.

It had started when he awoke, feeling far more rested than usual. Then he checked the time, and yelped loudly enough to wake his roommate.

“You alright?” Straal asked, his voice gravelly from sleep. 

“It’s 9:30. History of Mycology starts in 10 minutes, across campus. What do you think?” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” Paul said, hastily gathering his clothes and shower caddy. “Gotta go. See you at dinner.”

In response, Straal rolled over and went back to sleep. Muttering under his breath about roommates and unreliable alarms, Paul dashed down the hall to the bathroom. 

Fortunately, he was decent at taking quick showers. An odd sound from the next stall over, however, stopped him dead in his tracks just as he was about to finish washing his hair. 

Was the person next to him humming goddamn Kasselian opera? Not to mention, at - Paul checked his watch - 9:36 am? 

“Hey.” he said loudly, pounding on the thin metal wall. “Stifle it or get lost. This is unbearable enough without whatever the hell you’re doing.” He knew it was rude, but honestly? He didn’t care, especially since he hadn’t had his coffee yet today. 

Apparently, the hummer didn’t care, either, because the humming only increased in volume.

He didn’t have time to get in a fight over some random person’s bad vocal capacities, and he grumbled, dressing quickly and running out the door.

He must have miscalculated how much water was on the floor, because the next thing he knew, he was flat on his back, with a deep ache in his head, staring up at the ceiling - which was disgusting, wow, he’d never noticed that before, maybe he could sample it and see if there was any mycelium-

“You okay there?” 

Paul startled, the question interrupting his mental identification of the flora on the ceiling, his view of which was obscured by a - ridiculously attractive - person. Had to be the opera hummer. Great.

“Oh. Yeah, I was just - never mind.” He sat up, rubbing the back of his head - there would definitely be a bump at least, which was absolutely fantastic. Plus, the stranger was looking at him intently, and honestly he was getting a bit uncomfortable.

“You sure? That was a pretty nasty fall.” Paul flushed crimson. 

“Wow, you’re a doctor and an opera singer.” he ground out. “Perfect.” Honestly, he was just pissed that he was gonna be late for his favorite class. Plus, you know, the whole falling in the bathroom in front of a cute person thing. He was a mess.

The other grinned and extended a hand to help him up. “Not quite yet. Close, though - EMT and premed. I’m Hugh, by the way.”

“Paul Sta-“ he started to return the introduction, but as he stood up, the world began to spin erratically, going cloudy for a moment.

A startled “Whoa,” escaped his lips, and Hugh snaked an arm around his shoulders, steadying him, while the other went for his pocket, retrieving a medical tricorder. Paul wanted to make a snarky retort - he’d literally just met this guy less than five minutes ago, after all - but he was honestly concentrating on keeping his balance. The tricorder whirred around his ear, and for a brief moment he entertained the idea of swatting it like an annoying fly.

“Okay, you definitely have something going on - a mild concussion would be my guess. You, my friend, need to get that checked out by someone who has an actual medical degree.”

“No time, already late for class.”

“You really think you’re going to class like this?” 

That was a fair point. The dizziness was fading slightly, but he was definitely starting to feel nauseated.

“No.” he conceded. “I really don’t do doctors, though.”

Hugh sighed. “Tell you what. Is there someone who can keep an eye on you for the next day or so?”

“Straal.” Paul replied. “My roommate.” At least he could have someone to argue about mushrooms with. 

“Okay. I’ll walk you back to your room, but you gotta promise me that you’ll go to the ER if things get any worse.”

Paul gave him a deadpan thumbs up.  
———  
Straal, who had fortunately gotten up at some point, laughed at him after Hugh left. 

“Did you seriously manage to whack your head, in the bathroom, in front of the only premed on this floor?”

“Shut up.” At this point, all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. With any luck, the entire morning had just been a nightmare.

Except it wasn’t. Because Hugh had told Straal to wake Paul up every couple hours to make sure he was okay. Straal, ever willing to annoy the shit out of his roommate, complied with absolute glee. 

At some point, Paul just started answering questions with various sentence configurations involving the word “fuck”. Which was apparently good enough for Straal, who then basically threw a water bottle and a granola bar at him and told him to eat. 

“What time is it?”

“1600.” 

“Damn.” he sat up, thankfully without getting dizzy again, and took a ravenous bite of the granola bar. 

“You were out like a light, man.” Straal replied. “Culber left this for you.” He produced a neatly folded piece of paper and tossed it at Paul.

“Who?”

“Wow, you really did knock your head. Culber. The premed who brought you back. Y’know, tall guy, Latino…”

“Oh.” Paul flushed and Straal grinned lightly. 

“Methinks someone has a bit of a crush.”

“Stop.” 

“Disney princess, damsel in distress…”

“Straal!” Paul chucked the empty water bottle at his head, which the other dodged.

“Okay, okay, jeez.” he backed off, leaving Paul alone with the paper, which he made short work of unfolding.

It was his communicator number. Christ. He’d even put a little smiley face and a couple of music notes. 

Maybe he should be late for class more often.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professors, texting shenanigans, and the promise of a coffee date.

Trying to explain to Professor Lacerda why he hadn’t been in class that day was a mess. Paul almost missed the days of freshman and sophomore year when all of his classes were giant lectures, where you could skip class without fallout - getting barely a glance from the professor.

She had crossed her arms and given him an icy look. “Young man, skipping class is unacceptable. It’s in the syllabus, you must have a doctor’s note…”

As guilty as he felt about missing his favorite class and angering his favorite professor, Paul always felt a sort of warmth whenever he got called a man - back in high school, it was always “young lady” from his teachers. He knew it had been more than three years at this point, but…

“Stamets! Are you listening to me?”

Fuck. 

“I’ll try to get a doctor’s note. Sorry, Professor.”

She nodded. “I don’t mean to be so hard on you, but it’s university policy. See you on Monday.”

As he was walking out, his communicator chirped. His first instinct was to thank whatever deity - even Straal’s joke about the Mushroom Gods - that it hadn’t gone off in front of Lacerda. His second was to freeze - what if it was Hugh? No, he chastised himself, he hadn’t given his number to him yet…

It chirped again, and Paul flipped it open to find a comm from the only freshman in the class.

s-tilly: _holy shit, what did lacerda want?_  
s-tilly: _she didn’t eat you alive, did she?_

He grinned. Tilly could be so dramatic sometimes.

p-stamets: _no, vi, she didn’t. just wanted to know why I wasn’t in class on wednesday_

He hit send and started walking back to the dorm, lost in thought. Should he comm Hugh? Maybe Lacerda would take a note from a premed? He knew he was being ridiculous, but at least it would give him an excuse to comm... 

It wasn’t until he got back to his room that Tilly commed again.

s-tilly: _oh, yeah, what happened? you okay?_  
s-tilly: _and don’t call me vi_

Paul sighed. He really didn’t want to explain the whole episode again.

p-stamets: _i was sick. and would you rather i call you frosh? or cadet?_

Apparently that didn’t warrant a reply. Fine by him - Tilly was great, but she could be a lot to deal with sometimes.

He flopped back on the bed, still trying to figure out if it was too early to comm Hugh - after all, it’d only been two days. 

He finally decided to comm him, getting up the nerve to pick up his communicator and punch in the numbers - he’d stuck the paper on his desk, folded and hidden from Straal’s prying eyes. 

p-stamets: _it’s paul - just wanted to let you know that i did in fact wake up alive these past few mornings. thanks for everything_

His thumb hovered over the send button, slightly shaky. For some reason, the text sounded off, unnatural, but honestly it would have to do. He hit send, and immediately tossed the communicator face-down on the other end of the bed. God, he was such a disaster. Why the hell was he acting like a schoolgirl with a crush?

The piece of shit chirped, and he felt his heart rate immediately spike. It took a few minutes to pick it up.

s-tilly: _how about captain?_

Paul groaned. He was going to kill Tilly for her awful timing.

He was halfway through typing a response when the comm chirped again - he really needed to change the sound on that, Jesus Christ.

h-culber: _glad to hear it =) and it was my pleasure! are you feeling better?_

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was so glad Straal was still in class, or else he would be mercilessly teasing him right now. 

p-stamets: _mostly, yeah. still kind of tired, straal keeps waking me up every hour even though it’s been two days_

It was true - he wasn’t sure if Straal was worried about him, or if he just enjoyed Paul swearing at him at 3 am. Perhaps some perverse combination of both. 

h-culber: _that’s not good. we’re in the same microbio class, want me to have a talk with him?_

Well, that explained how Straal knew who Hugh was. Paul would have to weigh the pros and cons of that one.

p-stamets: _nah, he just likes annoying me. he’ll get bored at some point. thanks though_  
p-stamets: _besides, no need to give him any more ways to further his “paul stamets is a disney princess” theory_

He knew Straal wasn’t making jokes about him being a princess in a nasty way, but it still put him on edge - for some reason, it reminded him of his mother and how she would call him “my little girl” even when he came out. 

Oh God, he was probably going to have to tell Hugh he was trans at some point. Even Straal didn’t know, thanks to the modern miracle of medicine that was top surgery.

The comm chirped, startling him out of his anxiety reverie. He fumbled with it for a second, nearly dropping it. 

h-culber: _well, if he doesn’t stop soon, let me know. i’ll lecture him on the pitfalls of sleep deprivation._  
h-culber: _why does he think you’re a disney princess?_

Oh, geez. So this was happening.

p-stamets: _will do_  
p-stamets: _i quote: “you were rescued from the big bad concussion by a knight in shining armor”_

As soon as he pressed send, he regretted it. 

h-culber: _well, i mean, we were both getting out of the shower. i hardly had time to put my armor on =)_

“Oh, very funny.” Paul said aloud, his cheeks burning. The comm chirped again.

h-culber: _seriously though, i’m adding “needing help isn’t a bad thing” to my lecture list._

Was that an actual thing with him, a lecture list?

He was pondering the question when the door creaked open, and a “Hey, Paul!” signaled that Straal had returned from class.

p-stamets: _well, he’s back now, so maybe i can lecture him instead. gotta go_

He caught a glimpse of Hugh’s reply - _talk to you soon_ \- but just then, Straal plunked down next to him and started chattering away about mushrooms.  
——  
A couple hours later, his comm chirped again, forcing him to play his new game of “Tilly or Hugh?”. 

h-culber: _meant to ask you earlier, but do you want to grab a coffee sometime? it’d be nice to talk somewhere that isn’t a dorm bathroom_

Paul felt his heart start pounding again. Now he had a date to look forward to. Awesome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two dorks.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul and Hugh go on their first (real) date.

They’d decided to do Sunday at 3 for their coffee date, since Hugh had a shift for most of Saturday. 

Paul, on the other hand, spent most of Saturday pacing the length of his room, split between thinking-slash-worrying about said date and mentally working on his and Straal’s project on mycelia.

“So, I’m wondering if the properties we’ve found might indicate an underlying use for the spores.” 

Straal cracked one eye open, glancing at him. “You do realize it’s 4 in the morning, right? Usually I’d love to trade theories, but I’m trying to sleep.”

“Look who’s talking.” Paul retorted, continuing to pace. “You didn’t seem to have a problem when you were waking me up every hour.”

That didn’t even get a reply - Straal just muttered something inaudible and rolled over. 

Now that he’d mentioned it, though, Paul was kind of tired. He all but threw himself onto the bed and closed his eyes.

\-----  
His alarm blared directly into his ear, and he jumped.

The screen read 2:45 pm, with “time to go!” emblazoned across it.

Fuck. 

At least Straal wasn’t around to hear him swear loudly this time. 

He avoided the shower, tossing on clean clothes in his room. He grabbed his comm and his backpack, and bolted.

He honestly had no idea where the cafe was. Hugh said it was near campus - but in which direction? Did he need to hop a bus or could he walk? What kind of name was Alpha Centauri - who named a cafe after a star system anyway?

He stopped short, trying to get his breathing back under control, and slid his comm out of his pocket. 

p-stamets: _on my way - where is the cafe? I know you probably told me already_

He focused on getting out of the dorm until he heard the comm ping (he’d changed it during his fit of restlessness the night before, and he was not regretting it).

h-culber: _if you walk out of the main entrance of the dorm, it’s about five minutes down main street. should be on your right. see you soon =)_

Okay, that was doable. He probably wouldn’t need to run then - which was good, because he was definitely no athlete. 

When he finally got there, though - at 3 on the dot - there was a bit of a problem.

The place was very quaint - small, elegant, very mom-and-pop - but it was also packed, and he had no idea where Hugh was - or if he was even there yet. And his comm had no signal. 

Fuck. Again.

The phrase “follow the music” popped into his head, and somehow, over the din of the cafe, he could hear someone softly humming. Of course. He strode towards the noise, and sure enough, he spotted him.

“Do you ever stop humming?” he asked, sliding into the opposite.

Hugh looked up, a smile lighting up his oddly wan face. “You’re here!”

Paul gave him a look of what he hoped came across as concern. “Yeah. You okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Long shift last night, a couple things that aren’t pleasant to think about.” 

Oh, geez. Paul was not good at emotional stuff, but he could recognize when something was really bothering someone. “I’m sorry. Anything I can do?”

“I’m really just glad you showed up. I was worried I was a bit too forward.”

“Didn’t come across that way to me. And, if we’re being honest, I was considering asking something similar.”

Hugh gave him another smile, this one almost relieved. “Anyway, shall we get our coffee? I hear they have fantastic pastries too.” As if on cue, Paul felt his stomach growl. His cheeks burned, but Hugh just gently laughed. “Sounds like we’re on the same page.”

Sure enough, when Paul took a bite of the chocolate croissant that he’d recommended, his first thought was “that was an understatement.”

It must have shown on his face, because Hugh watched him, entertained, between sips of his mocha. “Told you they were good.”

“I’ll take anything that isn’t microwaveable at this point.” Paul replied. 

“Well, you could probably microwave it, but it would end up being soggy.”

“I thought you were studying biology, not food science.” 

“There’s overlap. Just like there is with biology and mycology.”

Paul gaped at him for a second. “How did you know that’s - Straal.” he said at the same time as Hugh. “So he talks about me, then.”

“Honestly, all he’s mentioned is that you’re his roommate, a Microbio major who especially likes mushrooms. Oh, and that you’re an asshole.” 

“That’s rather brutally honest.”

“I mean, I’ve only known you for, what, five days? But I don’t think you’re an asshole. You’re just kinda grumpy.” Hugh took another sip of his mocha. 

“Wow, thanks.” Paul deadpanned. “Glad to know that you can see through my jackass facade to my inner core of grumpiness.” God, no one talked like that. He was getting flustered and his sarcasm was suffering for it.

Hugh leaned forward slightly, his elbows on the table and lightly resting his head in his hands. “So why mushrooms?”

Oh, boy. Paul could talk for hours about mushrooms. 

He didn’t - he thought he didn’t, anyway, but he definitely went off on a very long tangent about mycelium and the physics behind it and his theory that there might be a practical use for the spores. He looked up and caught Hugh’s gaze, which contained an interesting mixture of interest, awe, and amusement. 

Paul trailed off. “I just get really excited about this stuff.”

“That’s amazing.” Hugh said. “I don’t know anyone here who has half your enthusiasm for their major.”

That brought a smile to Paul’s face. “Well, if there’s one thing people notice about me, it’s how I don’t shut up about mushrooms.”

“They should appreciate it.” he replied. “I know I do.”

Paul grinned, blushing again and taking a sip of his now-lukewarm coffee. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Hugh replied, returning the smile. “So what’s it like rooming with Straal? I’m curious to hear the other side of things.”

———

Once Paul had finished his coffee and his near-griping about Straal leaving mushrooms around and sleeping late and calling him an asshole, the two of them decided to leave.

It was well past five-thirty at this point, and the sun was starting to go down, casting golden light across everything in its path. It was also starting to get cold - and Paul, in his infinite wisdom, was feeling the effects of forgetting his coat.

“Do you want my coat?” Hugh asked, his brow creasing in concern as he started to slip out of the aforementioned garment. 

“No, I’m fine.” 

“You sure?”

“Positive. It’s five minutes.”

“Okay. Let me know if you change your mind.” 

After that exchange, the two walked in companionable silence towards the dorm. As they entered the building, Paul turned to Hugh.

“Probably sounds cliche, but I had a really great time. Thanks.”

“It’s not cliche, and I could say the same to you.” Hugh replied warmly. “Talk to you soon, okay?”

They went their separate ways down the hall, and Paul all but ran back to his room, making short work of the lock and nearly flinging himself onto his bed. That went better than he could ever have expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I’m still mad at canon!Disco.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Straal’s a little shit and Paul and Hugh have an unconventional study date.

The next few days seemed to drag by. 

Paul had gotten so distracted with the date that he’d forgotten to get a note for Professor Lacerda on Monday, and she hadn’t been happy. She’d reported him to Dean Lorca, and Paul was not looking forward to talking with him - from what he’d gathered from his few interactions with the man, he was a manipulative, detached asshole. 

Other than that, it was pretty much business as usual. He’d begun cultivating a small batch of mycelium in his dorm, and he was splitting his time between caring for that, observation, classes, and texting Hugh and Tilly. 

Straal, as usual, watched almost everything he did with amusement, because his roommate was a snarky asshole - he’d told Hugh that, and his response had been “at least he’s less so than Lorca” - he’d been good-naturedly teasing Paul about the whole mess.

Paul, not really wanting to think about the dean, just took a photo of the mason jar that was the starting point for his mushrooms and captioned it “my kiddos!”. He was very glad Hugh had assured him that all mushroom talk was fine by him - he still felt anxious about how much he talked about it sometimes.

His comm pinged, and he eagerly read Hugh’s reply.

h-culber: _they’re so cute! can i come visit?_

Paul grinned at his comm, and he caught a glimpse of Straal rolling his eyes from across the room.

p-stamets: _i agree. and sure, just give me a minute to ask Straal - and he just rolled his eyes at me so_

He looked up from the screen. “Hey, would you hate me forever if Hugh came over? He wants to see these.” He gestured at the mason jar.

“Knock yourself out. Just keep it PG-13.” Straal replied, clearly reveling in the blush that subsequently spread across Paul’s face. 

p-stamets: _straal’s cool with it apparently_

h-culber: _awesome! i’ll be right there_

“Well, fuck.” Paul said aloud, looking down at his pajama pants and ratty t-shirt from high school science bowl. “Why don’t I think things through?”

A snicker rose from the other side of the room. “Good going. Need me to hold him off?”

“Yeah, um...just ask him about the Microbio homework or something. I’m gonna change.” 

“You do that.” Straal replied, struggling to contain his laughter. 

Paul grabbed jeans and a better shirt and made a beeline for the bathroom. Fortunately, it seemed that Hugh was still down the hall, because he didn’t see him in the hall or in the bathroom as he squirmed into the clothes.

Walking back, he heard Straal’s voice, almost drawling, and he felt his heart skip a beat - which had been happening a lot lately whenever he thought of Hugh. He took a deep breath and went back in the room.

Sure enough, there he was, talking to Straal about bacteria and gel electrophoresis. Hearing Paul walk in, he turned around. His face lit up, identical to the way it had during their coffee date. Paul could swear he could get lost in his eyes-

 _Get a hold of yourself, Stamets._ he chastised himself mentally.

“Are you happy to see me or the mushrooms?” Paul asked, the sarcasm coming out slightly more intense than he intended. Straal cocked his head from behind Hugh, giving Paul a “what-the-fuck” look.

Hugh didn’t miss a beat, though. “If I got as excited to see mushrooms as I do when I see you, I’d be a Microbio major.” 

Paul froze, and Straal looked torn between laughing his ass off and rolling his eyes. “Geez, get a room, you two.”

Paul flushed crimson - another thing he’d seemingly been doing a lot of lately - and changed the subject. “Want to see my kiddos?”

“Okay, what the fuck, Paul?” Straal must have finally chosen, because he burst out laughing. 

“You know I’m talking about the mushrooms.” he half-snapped, and turned to Hugh. “Sorry about him. Maybe I can introduce you somewhere else?”

“We can go over to my room, if you like. You can move your mushrooms?”

“Yeah. They really should stay at a fairly high temperature, but it’s not a big deal if they don’t for a little while.” he picked up the jar. “Bye, Straal.”

“Bye, shroommate!” Straal chirped, and Paul groaned. 

“Let’s go.” he held open the door, and Hugh slipped out, clearly trying not to laugh.

“I hope you enjoyed the comedic stylings of my goddamn roommate.” Paul said as they walked down the hall. “I really am sorry about him.”

“It’s totally fine, don’t worry.” Hugh replied. “I think he just needs to find a comedic outlet that doesn’t involve mocking you.”

“I’ve thought the same thing.” 

They stopped further down the hall.

“You sure your roommate won’t mind?” Paul asked.

Hugh grinned and produced his key from his pocket. “Don’t have one.”

“I’m so jealous right now.” 

“I don’t think you want to know how I got a single.” He unlocked the door and gestured for Paul to step inside the - definitely smaller - room.

“Well, now I do.” Paul said, going in. 

He sighed. “My last roommate wouldn’t stop calling me...certain things. Even when I went to ResLife. They ended up making him someone else’s problem.”

Paul could imagine what those things were - he’d been called enough names and slurs himself, after all. And now he felt awkward. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

Hugh brightened. “Don’t be. I’m not cut out for roommate life, anyway. I get up at 5 in the morning to run.”

“We’d make a good pair. I tend to stay up until 4:30 pacing and working on our mycelia project.”

Hugh laughed - and damn did Paul love that laugh. “Speaking of which, you going to tell me about those?”

Paul had totally forgotten he was holding the mason jar, but nevertheless he explained the whole process involving an illegal pressure cooker and peat and a spore injector. 

“Bad boy, then?” Hugh teased, and warmth flooded Paul’s chest - he always forgot how small gender things could make him smile, and that went double when it was someone he actually liked.

“You’re not gonna snitch, are you?” he shot back.

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

——  
They ended up having an impromptu study date - Paul ran back to his room for his textbook, ignoring Straal’s snarky comment.

When he got back, Hugh had a bunch of markers out. He must have picked up on Paul’s questioning look, because he said, “I have to label some musculoskeletal anatomy - specifically of the arm - for one of my classes, and I like to color-code. Want to be my victim?”

“Wait, what?” 

“They give us these really badly copied diagrams to label. I usually end up diagramming on myself when I can - it’s easier to conceptualize that way. I was joking about using your arm as a model.”

Paul blinked. “I mean...you can if you want. I just have some reading to do, but I can use my other hand.”

Hugh grinned. “Okay, give me your arm then.”

Paul did, sliding his arm out of his hoodie, and felt his heart start to race when he felt the marker begin to write, covering his arm in bright blue.

At that point, he gave up on trying to read, listening to Hugh mutter anatomy terms to himself and occasionally change colors. It felt incredibly awkward, but somehow right, for this to be happening. 

Hugh looked up from his arm. “You doing okay? Need a break or anything?”

“I’m good.” Paul replied, trying to slow his heart down by taking a shaky breath.

“You sure? I still have a few more labels to place.” Damn, he must be misinterpreting his shakiness.

“I’m good. Go ahead.”

“All right. Just make sure to try to keep your arm still.” Double damn.

Hugh had definitely noticed his - discomfort? - because he started talking about things that weren’t anatomy-related.

“Tell me about your week?”

“Um, it was okay. The only low point was that I got reported to the dean.”

Hugh looked up again, his brow furrowed. “Okay, you told me that that happened - but why?”

“It was nothing, my History of Mycology professor just didn’t like me missing class and I forgot to get her a note.”

“Wait, seriously? Was this about the bathroom incident?”

Paul nodded. 

“I hate that rule so much, but the dean is worse.”

“I’m glad someone else shares my dislike. Do you know Michael Burnham? She’s a transfer student-“

“Name sounds familiar, I don’t think I’ve actually met her.”

“Oh, okay. Well, anyway, she says Lorca’s always trying to talk to her, something about working in his office or something, and it creeps her out a bit. I have to agree.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely creepy.” Hugh replied, going back to his labeling. “I’m sorry you have to deal with him.”

“It’s fine, I’ll think of something.”

“Let me know if you need me to yell at him.”

“You just like yelling at people.” Paul jokingly accused.

“I like yelling at people who do things that hurt people.” Hugh corrected. “I’m done labeling. Just going to take a couple pictures to study from.”

“Go for it.” 

He had him move his arm in a couple different positions to show off the labels. After the third picture, it cramped, and Paul sucked in a breath.

“You okay?” Hugh asked, concern creeping into his voice as he put the camera down.

“Yeah, just a cramp.” he replied, rubbing his elbow.

“Sorry. Probably should have taken it a little slower.”

“It’s fine. It’s gone now.”

“Glad to hear it.” Hugh said. “Thanks for putting up with that.”

“Glad I could be helpful.” Paul replied. “You better ace that exam though.”

That earned him another one of those amazing smiles. “As long as I have my fantastic model, I think I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> c:
> 
> Disco finale tonight!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul’s meeting with Lorca doesn’t go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals with light transphobia and panic attacks. Please take care of yourselves, friends <3

According to the excited comm he’d gotten two days later, getting covered in marker had been worth it; Hugh had gotten a 96 on his exam. 

That was the high point of Paul’s shitty day, because it was Tuesday, and Tuesday meant the day he had to meet with Dean Lorca about missing class. He still couldn’t understand why Lacerda had had to report him in the first place - it was one class, he’d hit his head, how heartless was she? 

Nevertheless, though, there he was, sitting in the dean’s office, fidgeting nervously.

“Stamets?” the - clearly bored - secretary asked. “Go on in.”

Paul took a deep breath to steady himself, and did so.

The first thing he noticed was the bowl of fortune cookies on the desk. That was strange.

The man sitting at the desk stood up. “Miss Stamets? I’m Dean Lorca. Take a seat.”

Paul froze, feeling icy panic run through his veins at the honorific. He thought he’d changed his gender in the school’s system, but evidently that didn’t extend to the Dean’s office.

He sat, numbly, ignoring the piercing look from Lorca, who had launched into something resembling a lecture about attendance and possible probation and god knows what else. He could feel the adrenaline, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest, nausea roiling in his stomach.

“...so I’m going to let you off with a warning for now. Are you listening, Miss Stamets?”

There it was again. “I’m not a girl,” Paul managed to choke out, hoping he still had some sort of dignity. 

“That’s not what your legal records say.” Lorca replied. Paul could feel his stare, even though his eyes were trained firmly on the carpet. He didn’t know how to reply to that, so he just did his best to change the subject.

“So I’m not on probation?”

“No. But you will be if you miss class unexcused again. This is too prestigious an institution to allow people to just skip class.”

If Paul wasn’t concentrating on keeping himself together, he would have argued multiple things about that statement. For one, that half his hall hadn’t been to class in months. 

Instead, he inclined his head, and stood up. “Are we done?”

Lorca nodded. “Yes. I don’t want to see you in here again.”

That was all the permission Paul needed, and he all but ran out of the office.

Fortunately, his dorm was not far, which was good because he didn’t think he could walk much further. He was shaking almost violently, his breath was coming in short pants, and his vision was beginning to star out behind the hot tears in his eyes. “Miss Stamets” kept echoing in his ears, and he didn’t think he could take it much longer.

He heard someone call “Paul!”, and footsteps climbed the stairs behind him. Of course it would be Hugh. Of course. He didn’t think he could handle embarrassing himself in front of - whatever Hugh was to him at this point.

“Hi,” he managed to say, trying his best to look like he wasn’t having a breakdown in the middle of the hall.

Apparently he wasn’t doing such a great job, because Hugh eyed him suspiciously.

“You okay? You look terrible.” 

Paul nodded. “Just a bit winded.” He felt his chest tighten another notch when Hugh didn’t look convinced. 

“I think you’re past winded. Try again.” he replied, and Paul did the only thing his anxiety-ridden mind could think of: he ran down the hall towards his room, ignoring Hugh’s concerned calls after him. He couldn’t let him see him like this. 

Between the running, his blurry vision, and his jelly-like limbs, though, he felt himself stumble, falling to his knees onto the linoleum floor halfway down the hall. 

He could sense Hugh before he actually was there, kneeling next to him. 

“I know I’m a mess,” was the best sarcastic comment Paul could think of, but it was mostly lost in his near-wheezing breaths. 

Hugh mostly just seemed concerned, though. He could feel warm fingers on his wrist - taking his pulse? - and he was saying something that was getting lost in the frantic heartbeat in his ears. 

“...come on, can you walk?” finally broke through the haze, and he realized that he was trying to get him somewhere - his room, maybe?

Paul stood up, shakily, Hugh’s hand in the middle of his back for support. Briefly, the thought of trying to go be alone again crossed his mind, but then they were moving.

Sure enough, they ended up outside his room.

“Unlocked.” Paul ground out.

He found himself on his bed, Hugh next to him, gently rubbing circles into his back.

“You need to take deep breaths, okay?” he was saying. “I know it probably seems really hard right now, you’re hyperventilating.”

Paul nodded. It felt like he was choking on each breath, his head absolutely spinning, but he tried to do as the premed said. 

“Just take it slow. That’s it.” 

Slowly, he felt the dizziness recede, his vision clearing as it became easier to breathe. 

He looked over at Hugh, who had stopped with the circles in favor of taking his pulse again - Paul had to fight the urge to pull his arm away.

“Guess I got to be a practice case again, huh?” 

It was supposed to be funny, but he didn’t laugh. “You feeling better?” 

“I guess. I’m sorry you had to see that.” 

“I’ve seen worse.” Hugh replied. “Seriously, don’t apologize. Panic attacks are awful, and you shouldn’t have to deal with them alone.”

“So that’s what that was?” The question was more of a formality than anything else - Paul had had similar experiences before, but never this badly. 

“You mean you’ve never had one before?”

“No. This was new.”

His brow creased. “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened? Did something set this off?”

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. How was he going to explain that Lorca calling him “miss” made him lose his shit?

He took a deep breath, shaky as it was. “Lorca.”

“Wait, Lorca caused this?” 

Paul nodded. “He...brought up some stuff that I didn’t need to think about.”

Hugh looked like he wanted to ask something else, but must have thought better of it. 

“I’m sorry. He’s such a jackass.”

“Wow, language.”

“Glad to see your sense of humor is coming back.” 

Paul managed a wan smile, and swallowed thickly. “It never left.”

“I don’t know about that.” Hugh said. “Do you have a water bottle or something? You need to hydrate.”

Paul pointed at his backpack. “Is that Panic Attack 101?”

He retrieved the water bottle, handing it to Paul. “That’s personal experience.” 

Paul wanted to question that - Hugh Culber did not seem like the type of person to have panic attacks.

But then again, neither did Paul Stamets. So he just took a drink of water, which felt amazing against his dry throat. Hugh looked at him approvingly.

“So what’s next on the panic attack protocol?” Paul asked him.

“Well, unless you need to talk about anything else, usually what I do is distraction and something light to eat.”

And that’s how they ended up on the floor of Paul’s room, making fun of bad movies and eating vegetarian soup. 

Paul felt lighter than he had in weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Panic attacks suck, just sayin’. 
> 
> I hope this wasn’t too OOC - I’ve been out of sorts lately, and I feel like my writing’s been suffering for it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More fun with anatomy, and Paul finally comes out to Hugh.

The second movie had just finished - involving, for some reason, multiple scenes of people getting their necks broken, which had Hugh pausing the movie to rant about the writers’ “truly awful anatomy knowledge” - when he turned to Paul.

“I would love to watch another movie, but I need to do some studying. Are you feeling up to modeling?” he asked, gesturing to his backpack.

Honestly, in the chaos of the last six hours, Paul had forgotten about the whole anatomy-modeling thing, and another - smaller - jolt of adrenaline hit him like a truck.

Despite that, he replied, “I think I can handle that.”

He would never get tired of seeing Hugh’s smile, even if it meant agreeing to get covered in marker for an hour - again.

“You’re a gem of a person. Let me just double check what exactly I need to be studying.” he said, rifling through a binder full of papers. He froze, and Paul could swear that he saw a blush rise on his cheeks.

“What is it?” Paul asked. 

“Muscles of the torso.” 

Paul felt his eyes widen. “Uh..” 

His mind was racing. He really wasn’t sure if he wanted to show off his top surgery scars - after all, they were fairly recent, clearly visible against his ridiculously pale skin. On the other hand, Hugh probably wouldn’t care...

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.” Hugh replied, hastily, apparently perceiving his distress. 

Paul took a shaky, deep breath to steady himself, then shrugged. “Probably nothing you haven’t seen before.” 

Hugh cocked his head. “You sure? I wouldn’t be upset if you didn’t.”

“I’m sure. I want to help.” He also wanted to finally tell him that he was trans - as they’d gotten closer, he’d begun to feel like he was deceiving him somehow. He knew it was just his internalized shit acting up, but it was still awful to think about - especially after the Lorca incident earlier in the day. 

“Okay. Just let me know if it gets to be, you know, too much, all right? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

He was too good to him, honestly. 

“Will do,” Paul said. “Do you need me to take my shirt off?” He was already nervously fingering the hem of his t-shirt.

“If you’re okay with that.” Hugh replied, clearly noticing his fidgeting. 

“Yeah.” Paul took another shaky breath and slipped his shirt off - somehow, despite the anxiety, in one fluid movement. 

If he did see the scars, Hugh didn’t seem fazed. “So my professor wants us to know the muscles from the neck to just above the hips.” he said, uncapping a black marker. “I’m going to start at your neck.”

Having someone writing on his neck was an odd sensation, compounded by the same muttering of anatomy terms like “sternomastoid” and “trapezius”. His mind was mostly occupied by the constant barrage of anxiety about outing himself and ruining his entire relationship with one of the best people he’d ever met-

“It’s okay to breathe while I’m doing this, you know.” Hugh pointed out gently from in front of his right shoulder. Paul let out the breath he didn’t even know he was holding, and he nodded in satisfaction, moving down further. 

“So, talk to me about your mushrooms.” 

Paul blinked, the request seeming to come out of the blue. “What?”

“Your mushrooms. It’s been a couple days, something’s got to have changed.” Hugh said, then muttered something about the pectoralis major. 

“They’re still pretty small. I’m trying to make sure nothing gets contaminated…” he continued to explain the growth of his mushroom project and the various controls he put on the process, Hugh listening as intently as he could while labeling muscle groups. 

Paul didn’t even realize that he’d passed over his scars until he came to the end of his mini-lecture. He shifted uncomfortably at the thought, and Hugh put a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“Try to stay still, Paul. I’m just about finished.” 

For some reason, the use of his name, along with the physical contact, made it worse, and for the second time that day, he felt the urge to run away. He really did want to explain the whole thing to Hugh, but the anxiety of being rejected was just _too much_. 

He hated himself from an hour ago for putting him in this situation - he loved Hugh, but-

Wait. He loved him. 

Paul could have banged his head into a wall. The confusing emotional weirdness and modeling and everything made so much more sense. Not to mention the adrenaline high. And the anxiety. 

He was still terrified of this whole situation, but somehow running away seemed like it would make it worse. So he forced himself to stay, pressing his hands into his thighs to try and ground himself. 

“Okay, I’m done.” Hugh said, capping the marker with a snap.

Paul looked up. “No pictures this time?” 

“I didn’t think you’d want me to.” he replied, sliding his binder and his markers back into his backpack.

Paul nodded - he had that right - and quickly put his shirt back on. “I’m sorry. Y’know, for getting restless before.”

Hugh looked confused. “Don’t apologize. After an hour of sitting still, almost everyone would move a little.”

“I know, it’s just…” He hated this. He hated this so much. “I was worried...my scars would make you hate me.” It sounded so childish, way too vulnerable for his liking, but if he was ever going to tell him, he had to do it now.

If anything, Hugh looked even more confused. “What are you talking about?”

Paul sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. “The scars are from top surgery. I’m trans.” 

He felt the bed dip as Hugh sat down next to him, his hand resting, comfortingly, on the side of Paul’s neck. “You really thought I’d hate you because you’re trans?”

It sounded ridiculous coming out of his mouth, but Paul nodded. “I haven’t had a lot of good experiences coming out to people.” He focused on the dark blue of his comforter rather than Hugh.

There was a pause, then he felt his hand gently lift his head.

And then he kissed him.

It startled Paul, though it was not unwelcome. 

Hugh broke the kiss, moving his hand up towards the back of his neck.

“I don’t think I could hate you if I tried.” he said. “I’m glad you felt like you could tell me.”

“I’m glad you don’t hate me for telling you.” Paul replied. “My thoughts kept going into a loop, hence the panic attack.”

Hugh’s brow furrowed. “You had that panic attack over my reaction?”

“It wasn’t triggered by that. It was triggered by Lorca refusing to acknowledge that I wasn’t a girl. I kind of spiraled after I saw you in the hall.”

“I’m sorry about that. But also, Lorca is such a dick.”

Paul nodded, flopping back on the bed. “I never want to hear anyone call me ‘Miss Stamets’ again.”

Hugh grinned. “Well, Mr. Stamets, I think it’s time you went to bed.”

Paul normally would have argued, but suddenly the adrenaline crash hit him hard.

“Yeah. Long day of asshole deans, panic attacks, and coming out to cute boys.”

That elicited a light laugh, and another kiss, this time on the forehead. “Want me to stay?”

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hugh Culber: a true cis ally. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
